


California Snowing

by courtingstars (FallingSilver)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Plot About Snow, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Homesickness, Kagami worries which is weird, Kuroko is too good for this world, M/M, POV Kagami Taiga, Someone Help Them, This one hurts a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingSilver/pseuds/courtingstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While they’re living in L.A. for college, Kagami notices Kuroko is homesick for Japan. The winter holiday season only makes it worse. He starts to worry Kuroko followed him for the wrong reasons. But sometimes all it takes is a little honesty and some snow to remind a light why his shadow chose him. (For the KagaKuro Fanbook: Winter.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	California Snowing

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! A shorter version of this story was included in the KagaKuro Fanbook, which came out in January. The theme was Winter. This is the full version of the fic, with cameos and even more fluffy moments. The plot is part of a huge headcanon that includes my other KagaKuro fics, and I plan to write more about it someday. (And for those of you who are waiting for updates on my other stories, I apologize. Real life has been brutal, but I will do my best to catch up with writing very soon.) Enjoy!

Kagami loved winter in Los Angeles. The crisp air, the clear skies, the holiday lights wrapped around the bases of the palm trees. He loved how he didn’t have to deal with any snow, or huddle beside a space heater or under a kotatsu, the way he did in Japan.

This year, though, he didn’t love it so much.

A feathery murmur floated through his apartment. It was so familiar it was like it belonged to his own shadow. (Okay, that was sort of redundant.)

Kagami craned his neck to see past the kitchen counter, until he glimpsed a pale, tousled cloud. His boyfriend’s bedhead was as ridiculous as ever. Kuroko was curled up on their couch. His laptop sat balanced on a nearby table. The curve of his cheek was edged in blue light, as he bent toward the screen.

“—I will, thank you,” he was saying. “Please say hello to Father and Grandmother for me.”

His fingers flickered, the Kuroko Tetsuya version of a wave. The light-haired woman on the screen mirrored the tiny gesture.

“I love you too, Mother,” he added. “Very much.”

Kagami winced, at the faint strain in Kuroko’s voice. Kuroko ended the video call, and slumped down into the cushions. He took out his phone. Probably checking messages again. Kagami tried to focus on the eggs he was scrambling.

It didn’t work. Instead he kept studying every movement Kuroko made. Every dip of his boyfriend’s head, every slight lift of his chest that could have been a muted sigh. Even the droopy angle of his shoulders, though it was hard to see under that giant sweater he wore. The lumpy red monstrosity had a tiger in a Santa hat on it.

(The sweater belonged to Kagami, technically. He still rued the day he told Riko about cheesy American holiday sweaters. Her hand-knit presents were getting way out of hand.)

At least Kagami managed not to burn breakfast, somehow. He switched off the heat and turned his back to the living area, not wanting Kuroko to catch him staring. He was dishing out the eggs, when a pair of arms snaked around his waist. He didn’t jump, but his heart did, a little. He swore Kuroko knew it, too, because he looked down to see his boyfriend’s mouth twitch in a silent chuckle.

“One of these days, this is all gonna end up on your head,” Kagami warned, with a nod to the hot pan. “You’ll have to get yourself to the emergency room. I’ll be too busy finding more food.”

“That would be a shame.” Kuroko smiled faintly. “To waste one of your meals.”

Kagami fought a nagging urge to point out that Kuroko wasn’t eating enough of those meals anyway. He changed the subject. “You know, pretty soon your whole invisible act is going to stop working on me. I’ll be able to tell you’re coming from a mile off.”

“No, never.” Kuroko gave him a look he knew, the most stubborn look in the universe.

“Yeah?” Kagami’s mouth inched upward. “I already caught you once.”

“That was just luck.” Kuroko looked vaguely annoyed. He added, in a reluctant tone, “And I suppose I was being a bit careless at the time.”

Kagami grinned. He still found the memory hilarious, of the appalled look on Kuroko’s face when he rounded on him, mid-sneak. “Face it dude, I’m going to get used to you eventually. Your days as the resident ghost here are numbered.”

“Unacceptable. I’ve sworn to haunt you forever.” Kuroko squeezed him tighter. His hands trailed over the front of Kagami’s t-shirt, then he let go and made for the hall. “Excuse me. I need to go possess a change of clothes now.”

Kagami snorted.

“Finally,” he said, trying to ignore the shiver Kuroko’s fingers had sent crinkling over his skin. “I hate looking at that thing.”

Kuroko paused in the doorway, with a slight lift of his left brow. He tugged at the bottom of the tiger sweater. “That’s a shame. I find it rather comfortable. And you didn’t appear to have any objections to its appearance last night.”

Kagami ducked his head. He stared with focused intensity at the bacon he was arranging. Mostly in an effort to pretend his ears weren’t on fire. “That was—it had nothing to do with the sweater.”

“Ah. I see.” Kuroko’s voice grew more distant, as he drifted down the hall. “Your approval had more to do with my lack of pants, I suppose.”

Kagami had to stop himself from smashing his face into one of the plates. He knew Kuroko liked to tease him, but did he have to do it first thing in the morning? At least Kuroko had put on pajama bottoms when they got out of bed, or Kagami would have been fighting the urge to jump him for the past hour.

Kagami’s blush cooled quickly though, and soon he was lost in thought again. He fed Nigou, not even registering the dog’s ecstatic bark, and moved the plates piled with breakfast food to the dining table.

A miniature Christmas tree sat in the table’s center. It had been well over a week since Christmas—he and Kuroko had gone to Japan for New Year’s, and come back again—but they hadn’t put the tree away. Kagami brought up the subject exactly once. The look on Kuroko’s face when he replied, “Let’s keep it out a little longer, please,” made him decide not to ask again.

Not that Kagami wanted to take the tree down, really. It just had a way of reminding him of all the things he couldn’t change.

The tree was decorated with paper stars in different colors, and tiny photographs hung with string. It was Kuroko’s idea, to put pictures of their friends and family on the tree. Their friends made for good decorations, as it turned out. (No surprise there, seeing as they were a colorful bunch. Literally.) Each one of them had taken a photo just for the tree, and sent it by phone.

Near the top of the tree hung a perfectly angled shot of Kise winking. A photo of Momoi making a heart shape with her fingers hovered beside a candid shot of Aomine shooting a basket. (Momoi took that one, since he’d never bother to do it himself.) Akashi and Midorima’s photos had been taken across from each other, in the middle of their weekly shogi match. Some random snack stuck out of Murasakibara’s mouth in his picture.

Nearby, Himuro was smiling in his grainy shot, halfway turned toward the camera, and Alex beamed sunnily in hers. Hyuuga and Kiyoshi and Riko were crammed into a single photo, surrounded by images of their other former teammates from Seirin. There was even a picture of Kagami’s dad, and one of Kuroko’s parents and grandmother.

Most of these people were thousands of miles away in Japan. Kagami and Kuroko wouldn’t see again them for months.

Kagami was still staring at the tree, when he finally realized Kuroko was sitting next to him. He was fully dressed for the day. He fed Nigou a piece of his bacon.

“Hey, so…” Kagami swallowed. “I’ve got the morning off from practice. Anything you wanna do?”

The new college semester didn’t start for another few weeks.

“Well, I believe Nigou could use a walk,” Kuroko said, absently. The dog’s ears perked up. Kagami wanted to say that wasn’t what he meant, that he wasn’t asking what the dog needed. But he choked down his dumb worries, and agreed.

They drove to the beach, and walked with Nigou along the gusty California shoreline. They didn’t talk much. Kagami had no clue if that was a bad thing, or actually good. But he held tight to Kuroko’s hand, and Kuroko wound his small fingers between his.

Kuroko’s palm felt cool, as it drew the heat from Kagami’s skin. And Kagami tried not to think about what he would do, if the day ever came when Kuroko didn’t want his warmth anymore.

As they circled the pier, they passed an elderly couple. The two sat on a bench, their gray heads bowed with age. They twined their hands, and silently watched the sea. Kagami glanced down at his hand, joined in Kuroko’s. His chest gave a pang. Some cheesy part of him made a wish, one he wasn’t brave enough to say out loud. He looked at Kuroko.

Kuroko wasn’t paying attention. He was gazing at the horizon, like he longed to drift across the waves toward it. His downy hair rippled in the wind, and Kagami couldn’t help but notice there was even less color in his face than usual. He looked like he was on the verge of fading away.

Lately, Kagami constantly got the feeling Kuroko was drifting somewhere else, that his mind was miles off. He was pretty sure he knew exactly where it was.

It wasn’t in California, anyway. Not with him.

That knowledge made the ocean breeze feel so much colder. It hardened like ice in Kagami’s chest, climbing up his throat and freezing his tongue, until he couldn't say a word. Probably because he knew words wouldn’t fix anything.

The truth was, Kagami knew what it was like, to stare at the ocean like that. He did it for two years, during morning jogs along the beach. He had studied the silver edge of the sea, and wondered how many miles he’d have to run across those rippling waves until he finally reached Kuroko.

(About five thousand, four hundred, and fifty, by the way. He wasn’t a numbers guy, but he would never forget that one, when he finally looked it up. He used to feel each of those miles like a punch to the gut.)

When Kagami decided three years ago to go to an American university to play basketball, he never guessed how hard it was going to be. Not the basketball—he was now preparing for the NBA draft, in his junior year—but leaving Kuroko behind in Japan. Turned out long distance relationships were so much harder than he thought.

It was okay at first. Kagami talked to Kuroko every day. Called and texted. He saw him on video chat every morning (early evening over in Tokyo). Kuroko was an amazing boyfriend, even from a distance. He sent long emails every week, about how proud he was of Kagami. He listened to all his dumb worries. They got closer and closer, even though they were so far apart.

But pretty soon Kagami’s chest started aching, whenever he heard Kuroko’s soft voice over the phone. Worry fluttered in his gut, whenever Kuroko didn’t respond to his texts right away. He hated the time difference, the way he couldn’t talk to Kuroko when either one of them was asleep. (They both started to sleep less.)

The dreams were the worst, though. Seeing Kuroko’s face, holding him close and feeling like he was really there, only to wake up to an empty bed and a room full of shadows. None of them were the shadow he wanted. The shadow that was his.

That was what it felt like, he realized. Like he had lost his own shadow.

Around this time, Kagami realized he was kind of turning into a lovesick weirdo.

His visits to Japan were a relief. The twelve-hour flights were brutal, but Kagami didn’t care. Because as soon as he got off the plane, Kuroko would be there, hurrying toward him. (He always saw Kagami first, of course.) Then Kagami could finally wrap his arms around his boyfriend and crush him to his chest and actually _feel_ him there, instead of just dreaming he could for the billionth time.

But before he knew it, Kagami would have to leave again. He hated that sinking feeling in his chest, the night before his flight, and how the sun always seemed to rise in fast-forward—even though they both stayed awake the whole time, so they could be with each other as much as possible. Kuroko’s eyes would get dimmer and dimmer, until by the time they reached the airport, they were lightless.

That was the part Kagami really couldn’t handle. Watching Kuroko miss _him_.

It hurt like hell to hear Kuroko say goodbye, murmuring the pained words against his chest. It felt like they were literally ripping apart, when Kagami couldn’t stay any longer or he really would miss his damn plane. One time, Kuroko actually cried. Or he must have, because even though Kagami never saw him do it, his eyes were pink as he stood waving outside the terminal.

Kagami hated seeing Kuroko cry. He always had. Like in that game against Touou, half a decade ago. But it wasn’t like going into the Zone could fix it this time. Kagami couldn’t fix it, period.

Because it was basically his fault.

The plane ride that day was the worst yet. As Kagami sat cramped in his tiny chair and failed at trying to sleep, he decided something. He didn’t want Kuroko to be with him, if it made him miserable. Maybe being together like this was just too hard.

So Kagami studied Kuroko over the next few months, trying to decide if he was okay or not. He didn’t seem to be. He always sounded tired during their Skype calls. His expressions were blank, hard to read, even for him. His texts were shorter, too.

Kagami hoped he was just imagining things. He couldn’t bring himself to talk to Kuroko about their relationship. He was too chicken. Honestly, the idea that Kuroko might decide to break up with him made him feel like he had a cross between food poisoning and a million stomach ulcers.

So he texted their mutual friends. Kagami sometimes asked them to check up on Kuroko. (He didn’t want to be a paranoid boyfriend… But this was Kuroko, who often forgot to do basic human things like _eat food_.) It didn’t hurt to ask how he was, right?

Wrong. Every last one of their replies was cryptic and weird. Like the one from Momoi that said Kuroko was fine, or mostly fine, but he seemed to have a lot on his mind. Or the incoherent one from Kise where he sounded all peppy—“Kurokocchi’s a-okay!!!”—but for some reason the cutesy emoticons he used were sad. Or the message from Kuroko’s mom that said he wasn’t himself, but Kagami should try not to worry. The text from Aomine calling him an idiot and telling him to “Just talk to your boyfriend, dumbass” was even less helpful.

Still, Kagami tried. He asked Kuroko multiple times if he was okay. Kuroko always smiled that tiny smile and insisted he was fine. So whatever was going on, Kuroko wanted to hide it from him.

Now Kagami was really starting to worry.

He pored over Kuroko’s emails, the long ones he sent every week, trying to read between the carefully punctuated lines. Kagami always backed up these messages to his laptop, because to him they sounded like poetry. (Not that he knew anything about poetry, but whatever.) They were mostly about memories they had shared, and how Kuroko was proud of him, and thinking of him. Sometimes there was a line or two about how he missed him. But it wasn’t much.

Kagami always figured Kuroko didn’t want to talk about it. Because it was too hard. Or maybe Kuroko didn’t miss him as much as he did. That would have been okay. He didn’t want his boyfriend to be hurting this bad.

He still didn’t know what to do, though. He didn’t want Kuroko to feel stuck with him. And their calls had so many awkward pauses lately. Sometimes Kuroko didn’t reply to his texts until the second or third one, when he was so on top of it before. Which made Kagami feel like the world’s neediest loser. He probably was.

He knew he needed to say something. To tell Kuroko they could break up, if he wanted. But every time Kagami tried, his chest seized up, and his tongue weighed inside his mouth like lead. And he still had no clue what Kuroko was feeling, if he was missing him or not missing him, or if something was wrong or everything was fine or _what_.

Then, in the middle of their sophomore year, Kagami got another email from Kuroko. It was two days late, and shorter than usual.

That email changed everything.

At first, it was like all the others, kind and thoughtful and polite. Then at the end, Kuroko wrote an apology. He said he was sorry he couldn’t write more, but he didn’t think he could do it. He said he missed Kagami so much he was finding it difficult not to sound weak or depressed, and he didn’t want to burden Kagami with his selfish feelings. He said he loved him, desperately. He signed the message, _A shadow who is lost without his light._

And he had never written anything like that before. Ever.

Kagami grabbed his phone, then and there. He should have been sleeping—he had an exam in the morning—but he called Kuroko anyway. Kuroko sounded startled, even guilty, and tried to convince Kagami not to worry. But it didn’t take long to get him talking. Soon they were admitting everything, all the stuff they had never said out loud to each other. That being apart was too hard, that it felt like being torn in two. Then Kuroko said the last thing Kagami expected.

“I’ve thought about it, and I would like to come live with you, if you don’t mind. But only if it wouldn’t be too much of an intrusion on your college life.”

The memory still made Kagami laugh, a little. Apparently Kuroko hesitated to bring it up because he thought he was asking too much. But the idea that he was intruding on Kagami’s one-man-in-an-empty-apartment existence was ridiculous. Of course Kagami wanted Kuroko to live with him.

So after a few months, Kuroko moved to L.A., and transferred to Kagami’s university. Kagami never once wished Kuroko wasn’t there. The opposite: he couldn’t imagine what he would do without him. And at first part of him thought, like an idiot, that he would never worry about relationship stuff again.

Yeah. That was hilarious. Or not.

“—right? Kagami-kun? Kagami-kun.”

A tug on his hand pulled Kagami back into the present. He looked over at Kuroko, who frowned up at him.

“Sorry, what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were all right,” Kuroko said gently. “You had a look on your face like you were trying to keep your composure around a dog.”

“Nah, I was just—” Kagami gave a start, as he fully processed that last remark. “Hey! I’ve gotten better about that.”

Kuroko nodded thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed. Now instead of running, you simply break into a cold sweat. Though you’ve stopped around Nigou, for the most part.”

Kagami scowled at him.

“In any case, is something wrong?” Kuroko added. “I would be happy to listen, if anything is troubling you.”

“I’m fine,” Kagami hurried to say. _I’m just kind of scared you’re not._

Kuroko peered up at him, with those sky-colored eyes that saw too much. In the end, though, he just squeezed Kagami’s hand. They walked back down the pier, toward a parking lot. Palm trees rippled in the winter breeze.

“So, vanilla shake?” Kagami said.

Kuroko smiled. “Yes, please.”

They did their usual morning-off routine. Which mostly involved lunch at the fast food chain that Kuroko claimed had the best shakes in California. (Other than the double vanilla shake at their favorite diner, but that was for special occasions.) Then Kagami had to get back to campus for afternoon practice.

They drove back to their apartment, and Kagami changed clothes. As he headed out the front door, he saw Kuroko open up his laptop again. Kagami swallowed another burst of worry. All the way to campus, he told himself he was being stupid.

He wanted Kuroko to talk to their friends in Japan. Seriously, all the video calls and texts he could handle. Kagami didn’t mind Kuroko bringing his phone everywhere, or how he watched the clock in the early afternoon, waiting for them to wake up.

It was just that Kuroko’s expression was starting to look familiar. That blank, slightly wistful frown.

Kagami tried to convince himself he was imagining it. But after their New Year’s trip to Japan, he couldn’t. He saw the way Kuroko’s face lit up when he was visiting the Generation of Miracles, and his sparkling smile when everybody from Seirin’s old team hung out for an afternoon.

There were smaller moments, too. Like Kuroko sighing happily over his mom’s New Year’s cooking, and asking to get a shake at Maji Burger. “They make better ones in America,” he admitted. “But these will always be my favorite.” He mentioned missing the seasons in Japan. And he hadn’t looked as content in months, as when they went on a shrine visit with a huge group of their friends.

Worst of all, Kagami saw how Kuroko started to fade when the trip was over, and how he clung to his mom and his dad and his grandmother at the airport, while they were saying goodbye.

In that moment, Kagami pretty much felt like a monster. Like he was stealing Kuroko away, from all these people he loved so much, not to mention his real home. All because of Kagami's stupid NBA dream, and how it meant he had to live on the other side of the ocean.

It wasn’t like Kagami had changed his mind, about wanting Kuroko with him. He loved living with Kuroko. God, he loved it. He loved the teasing and the touching and the kissing, and the way Kuroko curled up in his arms on the couch. He loved waking up every morning to that goofy bedhead, and Kuroko’s sleep-blurred eyes, as they stared into his. He loved the things Kuroko would whisper in his ear, stuff that made him blush, even though they were alone and nobody could hear them.

But Kagami didn’t know anymore, if living in California was really the best thing for Kuroko.

Kuroko was doing pretty well in school, studying to be a teacher and all. But he had never planned to go to an American university, and there were obvious challenges. Kagami asked every chance he got, if Kuroko was hanging out with his classmates and finding study partners. It seemed like he was, which was a relief. Kagami hadn’t known how that would work out, with English being Kuroko’s second language, not to mention the lack-of-presence thing.

But Kuroko would never be as close to anyone, as he was to his friends in Japan. Kagami wanted to make up the difference, as much as humanly possible. He tried.

But there was only so much he could do. He couldn’t help Kuroko with his term papers, or give him career advice. Unlike Akashi could, say, or Midorima. He was useless at shopping, compared to someone like Kise, and Momoi was way better at listening to people’s worries. And sure, Kagami could play basketball one-on-one with Kuroko like Aomine, but he couldn’t replace their longtime friendship. Same with Murasakibara, who had an easy companionship with Kuroko that he couldn’t duplicate.

Most of all, Kagami couldn’t be Kuroko’s family. He couldn’t comfort him as well as his mom, or praise him like his dad, or fuss over him like his grandmother.

They still did a lot of that stuff with Kuroko over the phone. But Kagami wasn’t sure it was enough.

In the end, Kagami was just one person. He couldn’t be everything for Kuroko, as much as he wanted to. Sometimes he wished he were a superhero, and he could just swoop in and punch a few bad dudes and fix everything. But he couldn’t fight things like distance, or the future. He couldn’t make the Pacific Ocean any smaller.

(God, he wanted to. He would have built a bridge across the whole damn thing, piece by piece, if it meant Kuroko could see his friends and family whenever he wanted.)

All Kagami could do was fumble around, and try to be enough for Kuroko by himself. He just wondered how long that would last.

Kuroko’s birthday was coming up. It was the first time he would celebrate it with Kagami in L.A. Just him, no one else. Maybe Kagami should have liked that idea. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about how Kuroko never looked happier than at those huge noisy parties with all his friends.

Kagami tried to put these thoughts out of his mind, once he got to practice. Instead he played like crap. After some scolding from his coach, he headed home. The wind bit through his jacket as he headed across campus. It was cold, sure, but nothing like the weather in Japan this time of year. Kagami found himself wishing that southern California could be more like Japan, with the lower temperatures and bad central heating in the buildings. Then maybe Kuroko could miss the place less.

(Jeez, was Kagami seriously wishing for weather he didn’t even like? He was losing it.)

He reached their apartment complex, and took the stairs three at a time. As he unlocked the door, he said his usual greeting. “I’m back.”

Kuroko murmured his usual reply. He was huddled on the couch, tucked in one of those blanket nests he liked to build around himself. He typed away on his laptop. His phone sat atop the armrest, flashing. He was probably talking with Akashi on the computer. The texts on the phone were probably Kise. Maybe Momoi too.

Looking at Kuroko, Kagami had a feeling they would be staying in for the night.

Sure enough, Kuroko asked if they could spend the evening at home. He offered to cook dinner, but Kagami said he wanted to do it. (He didn’t know what else to do with himself, honestly.)

It wasn’t such a bad way to spend a night. Kuroko read some of the messages he got out loud. Mostly the ones he seemed to know would make Kagami laugh. He took a break to join Kagami for dinner. Then they curled up on the couch and watched mindless American television. (Well, Kagami did, anyway. Kuroko had his laptop out again.)

But even with both arms wrapped around Kuroko, Kagami couldn’t quite shake his train of thought from earlier.

Soon it was that time of night when Kuroko’s friends started telling him, “Go to bed, get some sleep, we know what time it is in L.A.” Suddenly, Kuroko’s phone received three quick texts in a row. That only happened when Kise was excited about something. Kuroko scanned the messages.

The lingering smile in his eyes was snuffed out like a flame.

“Oh,” he said, so soft it was almost a whisper. “It’s snowing there.”

Kagami’s throat knotted up. He stared at Kuroko, who sat with his knees tucked against his chest. He looked like he was crumpling in on himself. The longing in his voice punched Kagami in the gut.

On their way over to Japan, Kuroko said he hoped it would snow. But it hadn’t. This was the first snowfall in Tokyo that winter. Kuroko would miss other snows too, if there were any. He wouldn’t be back in Japan until springtime.

Instead he was stuck here, in L.A., where it never snowed. Ever.

Kagami opened his mouth to say he was sorry, or he felt bad, or he didn’t even know what. But his tongue felt stuck again. Frozen.

Kuroko finished saying goodnight to everyone, and they headed to bed. Silence blanketed the room, as Kagami waited for Kuroko to finish brushing his teeth and join him. His heart felt so heavy. Like with every beat it was sinking lower.

Kuroko appeared then, slipping under the sheets and their thick black comforter. His eyes looked dull, clouded over. The heater buzzed near the covered window. Kagami wondered if it had always been so loud. He climbed into bed too. He was a little scared that Kuroko would just say goodnight and roll over. Instead Kuroko sidled up to him, and tucked his head beside his chest.

A breath of relief slipped out, as Kagami relaxed a little. He forced his mouth to move. To ask the question he was scared to ask right now. The one he had asked over and over, back when he thought maybe they would break up.

“You okay?” he said.

Kuroko was silent. His breathing was so quiet, Kagami noticed. He never used to hear it, but now he did, in still moments like this. Finally Kuroko moved his head. The motion was so slight that Kagami wasn’t sure if it was a shake or a nod.

“I’m just a little homesick,” he said.

Even his voice reminded Kagami of snow. Soft, and small, like tiny falling flakes. Cold, with a sadness Kagami didn’t know how to melt.

“Sorry,” he managed to say. The word hurt. “That sucks.”

Kuroko rested a hand on his shoulder. Kagami felt his unspoken request, deep down, in the part of him that understood Kuroko without any words. He turned on his side, and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. He held Kuroko closer and closer. Until he was all around him, with Kuroko tucked securely in the middle.

“I love you,” Kuroko said. His voice was so muffled that most people wouldn’t understand it. Kagami did, though.

“Love you too,” he mumbled back, into the fleecy strands of Kuroko’s hair.

He had held Kuroko like this before, back when they were still doing the long-distance thing. Usually when they were about to say goodbye the next day. Kagami’s heart went through all those painful motions again. Until he felt kind of sick, and old thoughts were whispering inside his head, in a frightened, childish voice he didn’t want to hear.

_I won’t let go. I won’t. You can’t make me. You’re supposed to be mine, right? You’re supposed to stay with me. You have to. I need you._

All of that was garbage. Kuroko didn’t belong to Kagami. He didn’t have to be there, caught up in Kagami’s arms. He could just as easily be in Japan. He probably would go back there, someday. Eventually. Even if it was years down the line. He would go home and find someone else, someone with a future in Tokyo.

In a way, that was the worst part. Because now Kagami knew what it was like to have Kuroko here with him. Now he knew just how badly he wanted him to stay. And somehow, with every day that went by, and every little thing they did together, he wanted it even more. But that didn’t mean it was going to happen.

Sometimes, Kagami felt like he was sealing his own fate. Like with every touch, every kiss, every hour Kuroko stayed wrapped up in his arms, he was just giving himself more to miss later. More to ache for, when the inevitable happened.

It was like Kuroko was a magician, performing some elaborate trick, one of those sleight-of-hand things he was so good at. Each day, he was winding chain after chain around Kagami, binding it with locks, and melting down all the keys. Until at the end, he would just disappear, like always. And it would all turn out to be a big vanishing act, one Kagami would never be free of.

And now Kagami knew he was losing it, because that was the most emo thing he’d ever thought in his life. At least all those dreams he had about Kuroko fading away were out of his control.

Of course, that was exactly why he didn’t want to fall asleep right now.

So he lay in the dark for an hour and a half, and listened to Kuroko’s feather-light breathing. It slowed, and grew more even. Kagami unwound himself from Kuroko’s arms, and wrapped the comforter around him, as snug as he could. Then he crept from the room. The floorboards were freezing against his bare feet, but he was too busy feeling his way around the creaky spots to care.

He flipped on the kitchen lights and slumped over the counter, head in both hands.

He didn’t know what to do. How to help Kuroko feel better, or what he was supposed to want. If Kuroko should be with him, or in Japan instead.

Sure, Kagami missed their friends sometimes. But L.A. was home for him. He was there because he wanted to be. Because he was following a dream he had since he was a kid. For him, Kuroko being there with him was enough. More than enough. He didn’t know if Kuroko felt the same, though. It seemed like he might. For now.

Until what was left of the excitement wore off, maybe. Until Kuroko figured out Kagami wasn’t worth the homesickness, and giving up his old plans for the future, and missing snow and plum blossoms and autumn leaves. And the worst thing: only talking to his friends and family from a distance. Kuroko had already admitted he missed them. The homesickness would probably get worse, too.

Kagami was about to go into the NBA. Kuroko had said he wanted to come live with him, wherever he ended up getting drafted. But Kagami would still be on the road a lot. Kuroko wouldn’t go with him. He would be going to school, and starting his career. And then what?

If Kuroko was feeling homesick now, how much worse would it be then?

Kagami remembered once, telling the Generation of Miracles they thought too much. He meant about basketball. But they were like that about everything. (Including the ones who pretended they weren’t.) He kind of understood now, though. Because caring made you think too much. At three a.m. When you were supposed to be sleeping, and couldn’t.

Kuroko had always had a way of making Kagami think, more than he usually did. Right from the start.

Maybe Kagami needed to quit doing that. Or maybe not. He didn’t know. But it sure as hell was giving him a headache.

He opened a nearby drawer. A cluster of folded-up papers lay inside. He took one of them out and spread it open on the kitchen counter. Across the top, in tiny kanji, read, ‘Okayu.’ The recipe beneath it was beyond simple. Just some basic instructions for rice porridge. Still, Kagami had asked Kuroko’s mother to write it all down, step by step. He wanted to know every last detail of how she made it.

He got out an earthenware pot, and a measuring cup for the water. Next came the ingredients: uncooked rice, green onions, a single egg. After that, Kagami hunted down the right utensils. Some people cleared their minds doing housework. He did it by cooking.

Plus, this was something he needed to practice anyway.

The first time Kuroko got sick in California, Kagami made him okayu. Because he knew Kuroko’s mom always made some when he wasn’t feeling well. She had even started to make it for Kagami when he got sick, when he was still in Japan. (Kuroko usually brought it to his apartment. Once, though, she came over to serve it herself. It was weird, having two people with such low presence in the place. It was even weirder, having a mom fuss over him like that. Weird, but nice.)

Unfortunately, Kagami wasn’t sure what ingredients Kuroko’s mom used, or how much water. So his version didn’t end up tasting exactly like hers. Kuroko ate most of it, and seemed charmed that he had tried. But Kagami wanted to get it just right.

Kuroko already had to live without his mom, after all. The least Kagami could do was make him the same kind of okayu as hers.

Kagami had the rice soaking, and was halfway done chopping up the green onions, when he noticed a flash in his peripheral vision. His phone lay on the other side of the counter. He craned his neck to see the screen.

It was a text from Himuro. His honorary brother was always sending messages at weird hours. Kagami would’ve assumed it was because he was busy with his own training, but it was more because he was the kind of person who didn’t keep close track of time.

Kagami wiped his hands and picked up his phone. The text was simple, just one of those “Hey did you get back to Cal all right” kind of things.

Kagami knit his brows. He wasn’t the type of person to pour his heart out or whatever. He and Himuro had never been very good at that. Still, Himuro understood people better than he did. Maybe…

He hit the speed dial for Himuro’s number, and rested the phone beside his ear.

“Hey, Taiga,” said a familiar voice, in English. “What’s up?”

“Hey. Uh… Not much.” Kagami didn’t really know where to start. He kept the phone balanced against his shoulder, and went back to chopping the onions.

“Wait, are you okay?” Himuro said. “Isn’t it late over there? I don’t hear from you much around this time.”

“Yeah, it’s like three. I just… I don’t know, I guess I needed to talk.”

Another pause. “Are you and Kuroko doing all right?”

The way he said it made it clear he didn't mean them separately. Kagami let out a breath. How did Himuro always guess this stuff?

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think, yeah. For now. I’m just… I’m not sure all of this was a good idea.”

“You mean the move,” Himuro said. (Seriously, freaky.) “Are you starting to get on each other’s nerves? Because I’ve got to say, that’s hard to imagine.”

He chuckled quietly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that. Kuroko’s just… homesick. He’s barely said anything, but I can tell it’s pretty bad. He always hides when he’s upset.”

“Ah.” Himuro sounded thoughtful. “Well, feeling homesick would be normal, right? Especially when the two of you were just here. You only stayed a few days.”

“I know.” Kagami sighed heavily. Stupid basketball training schedule. “I wanted him to stay longer, but he said he wanted to come back with me.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I don’t know.” Kagami chopped harder.

“All right, what are you making?” The smile was audible in Himuro’s voice. He knew about Kagami’s cooking habit.

“Okayu,” Kagami said. He finished the onions, and started draining the rice.

“Okayu?” Himuro sounded startled. “Did one of you catch something on the plane?”

“No. I’m just practicing.”

“I… see.” For once, Himuro just sounded confused. “Listen, Taiga. Has Kuroko said anything about wanting to move back here?”

“No. I don’t think he wants to. Yet.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Look, it’s just…” Kagami grimaced. “He’s alone a lot. Like when I’m training. And he’s always phoning everybody back home. He seriously misses them. And next year is gonna be worse, when I’m on the road… I just don’t want him stuck in a crappy life with me, you know? If he would be happier back in Japan. I just think at some point maybe he’s gonna figure out this isn’t worth it.”

He didn’t want to go any further, to voice the scarier version of that thought that was slithering around in his head. _He’ll decide being with me isn’t worth it._

“So in other words, you’re the one worrying,” Himuro said.

Kagami turned on the stove. “I guess.”

“Huh. You’re not the type, generally,” Himuro said. Kagami had no idea why he sounded amused by this. “It’s good to think about the future sometimes. But you know there’s such a thing as overdoing it, right?”

Kagami gave a noncommittal grunt, as he put the pot on the burner.

“Anyway, you should spend some time with Kuroko tomorrow,” Himuro continued. “You’re still on break. Get out of the apartment, do something together. And—”

He was interrupted by a gruff voice, asking who was on the phone. Kagami recognized it right away. That was Nijimura Shuuzou, Himuro’s roommate at the sport science university Nittaidai. (Kagami still didn’t understand how the Generation of Miracles’ former captain and Himuro became friends. Part of it involved a long, convoluted story about their first meeting in L.A., one that Kagami wasn’t sure he believed.)

“It’s Taiga,” Himuro replied in Japanese. Nijimura said something else, inaudible this time. “Yeah, got it. Hang on a minute, I’m coming.”

Another voice joined in, and Kagami heard a very familiar laugh. “C’mon, Himuro! Those beers won’t down themselves!”

Kagami snorted. That was Takao. The one and only. Sometimes Kagami felt sorry for the professors at that university. (Not to mention the basketball coach.) If he listened hard, he was pretty sure he could hear Ogiwara’s sunny voice in the distant background. The four of them were all on the same team now, but it was still kind of bizarre to think about them hanging out.

“Sounds like you’ve got a busy night planned,” Kagami said.

“You could say that,” Himuro said. Kagami could practically see the sly smile on his face. “But I could catch up with them later, if you still need to talk.”

“Nah, go ahead. Just try not to get arrested.”

“I make no promises with this crew,” Himuro said with a mock sigh. Then his voice grew serious again. “But Taiga, one more thing. You should talk to Kuroko. Tell him what you were telling me.”

“What?” Kagami fumbled the wooden spoon in his hand. “I don’t want to bug him with stupid crap—”

“Taiga,” Himuro interrupted, in his firmest ‘big brother’ tone. “I know why you don’t want to tell him. Do it anyway. You’re both kind people. Neither of you wants to be a burden. He mostly keeps his thoughts to himself, and you prefer to do things instead of talk. But when you do talk, everything turns out all right. Doesn’t it?”

“I guess.” Kagami couldn’t keep the doubt out of his voice.

“Look, I get it,” Himuro said. “You’re worried he won’t consider what you’re saying. That he’ll be too focused on reassuring you. But he’s a strong person. You know that, more than anyone. Trust him. He’ll tell you the truth.”

Kagami took a breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Himuro chuckled. “Catch you later, bro.”

“Thanks, Tatsuya,” Kagami said. He added quickly, “Hey, uh, is it snowing over there?”

“Yeah. It looks pretty heavy for Tokyo. Can’t say I’m looking forward to slogging through it. Still jealous you get that L.A. weather.” Himuro paused. “Why do you ask?”

“Uh, no reason.” Kagami swallowed. “See you later.”

“Later.” And with that, Himuro hung up.

Kagami set down the phone. He put the lid on the pot, and waited for the rice to stew. While he waited, he wandered over to their tiny balcony, and slipped outside. The air dragged chills along his bare arms. It wasn’t Tokyo cold, Kagami thought as he hugged his chest, but it was still freaking January.

He stared up at the sky. Beyond the orange haze of the light pollution, the stars glittered stubbornly. When he was a kid, Kagami used to squint up at them all the time, on nights like this. And wish for stuff, like kids do. To be in the NBA, mostly.

He remembered wishing for snow once, shortly after he and his dad moved to L.A. He wasn’t into cold weather then either, but he kind of missed Japan. So he wished for snow. Even though he knew it never happened in southern California. It was like a test, to see if wishes on stars worked. (At Disneyland they were always saying they did. His father took him there a lot when they first moved.)

Of course, it never snowed. Kagami secretly kept wishing on stars anyway. (Yeah, he was that kind of kid.) Right now, he was kind of tempted to wish for snow again. He would have done it, if he really thought it had a snowball’s chance in hell of working.

_“I’m just a little homesick.”_

Kagami shivered. He remembered Himuro’s advice, that he should do something with Kuroko. Kuroko would probably want to stay home again tomorrow. Kagami would have to think of something good, to get him out of the apartment. He leaned on the railing, and thought about snow, and wishing on stars.

And he got an idea.

He hurried back inside, and closed the door. He picked up his phone, to check a certain schedule. It looked like maybe the idea would work. By this time, the rice was done, so he took off the lid of the pot. He cracked open the egg, beat it, and stirred the golden mixture into the porridge. He added the green onions too, after checking the recipe:

_“Make sure you add the egg, because he won’t eat as much without it. Add the green onions a bit early, and stir them in, as much as you can. He’ll try to eat around them a little, so I always make sure to cook them in the water, because it’s healthier for colds.”_

Kagami couldn’t help a wry smile. Yeah, he knew a thing or two about Kuroko’s birdlike eating habits. Clearly Kuroko’s mom knew how to deal with him. Maybe he should ask her how to make sure he ate enough in general.

After a few more minutes, the porridge was done. Kagami let it cool off, then grabbed a spoonful to take a taste. He was pretty sure he remembered what it was supposed to taste like. He sipped it, and frowned.

It was a lot better, he thought. But still not exactly like Kuroko’s mom’s. Maybe he should ask what brand of rice she used. With any luck, he could buy it at Mitsuwa without having to ship it over. And okay, maybe that was being obsessive, and a little crazy, about such a small thing.

Because even if Kagami perfected it, he knew the porridge wouldn’t fix his problem. What if Kuroko got sick while he was on the road later? He couldn’t make it for him then. Besides, he wasn’t Kuroko’s mom. He couldn’t do all the soothing things moms do. Hell, he had barely any experience with moms in the first place.

His gut was twisting up in knots again. Kagami put the lid on the rest of the okayu and put it in the refrigerator. He picked up his phone, and stared at the schedule again, the one he just looked up.

In that moment, Kagami made a wish. It wasn’t on a star or anything. It wasn’t about snow, and it definitely wasn’t about the NBA. It was just the same wish he had at the beach, when he saw that elderly couple sitting on a bench.

The wish was about getting old, and graying hair. Mostly it was about knowing someone so well, for so long, that he wouldn’t have to say a word to be understood. And yeah, he already had someone in mind. He had for a while.

Kagami knew the wish might never come true. He couldn’t help it, though.

Because honestly, deep down, he was still that kind of guy.

* * *

The next day, Kagami went to morning training, like usual. He dropped by the apartment later for lunch, only to find Kuroko standing in front of the refrigerator, holding the door open and steadily peering inside. At first Kagami didn’t get why.

“What, did that thing of cottage cheese finally mutate or something?” he said.

Kuroko didn’t answer. “Did you know there’s okayu in here?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Kagami pressed his lips together. Before Kuroko could ask any more questions, he said loudly, “Hey, so I was wondering. Could we go out tonight? There’s something I really wanna do.”

Kuroko raised his head. He looked startled.

“Tonight?” He hesitated. “I told the others I would be online—”

He glanced at Kagami, and his expression changed.

“But I’d be glad to go with you,” he said. Kagami couldn’t tell how forced that smile was. He hoped not as much as he thought. “I’ll just ask them to text me instead.”

“Okay, cool,” Kagami said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Where are we going, if I may ask?”

“Nope, not allowed.” Kagami managed a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

Kuroko raised his brows. Honestly, Kagami figured he would realize where they were going halfway through the drive. But he wanted to milk it anyway.

As it turned out, Kuroko didn’t figure it out that quickly. Mostly because he was texting the whole way. They were already in Anaheim and driving toward some colorful buildings when he looked up and said, “Oh, are we going to Disneyland?”

“Yeah,” Kagami said, as he turned into the guest parking lot. “Hope that’s okay. I wanted to see the Christmas stuff before they take it down.”

This was only kind of true, but hey, close enough. Kuroko smiled, though.

“Of course,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

Kagami felt a burst of relief. He was pretty sure Kuroko wouldn’t mind, but he was hoping he wouldn’t be bored, either.

They had been to Disneyland together a few times in the past year. It was corny, yeah, but it was the sort of place they both liked. So when Kuroko moved there, Kagami got them annual passes as a kind of “Welcome to California” present.

Tonight, the main park was crowded, with people still on winter break. Kagami and Kuroko entered Main Street, and stopped to look around. Christmas decorations were everywhere. Pine boughs glowed with tiny lights. A huge tree stood in the square, several stories tall. Some of the ornaments on that thing were basketball-sized. They pointed this out at the same time, and laughed.

They rode a few of their favorite rides. (Kagami said yes to It’s A Small World, but only because it was decorated for Christmas. He was pretty sure Kuroko just found it funny that the song drove him nuts.) Kuroko texted their friends off and on, while they waited in line. Mostly he just huddled against Kagami for warmth, while they talked about random stuff. He seemed… happy. Kagami kind of couldn’t believe it.”

He just hoped his last plan for the night went this well.

After a few hours, he bought Kuroko hot cocoa, and they walked hand in hand around the castle. Then he checked the time on his phone.

“We should head back to Main Street,” he said. “The fireworks are gonna start.”

Kuroko took a last sip of cocoa, before throwing the cup away. “You can see them from anywhere in the park, can’t you?”

“The fireworks, yeah, but not the rest of it,” Kagami said. Kuroko gave him a perplexed look. “You’ll see.”

He led Kuroko by the hand, back to Main Street. The center of the street was crowded, so they stood to the side. The fireworks began. Glittery explosions lit up the sky, and the whole park too. Kagami didn’t pay much attention. His thoughts were racing. He just hoped what came after the fireworks was as good as he remembered. The show ended in a blizzard of light. Then…

Snow drifted down, from over the rooftops of Main Street. Beside Kagami, Kuroko drew a startled breath. Everyone around them shouted and reached out their hands. Countless flakes tumbled to the street in billowing flurries. It was just a special effect, soapy bubbles made to look like the real thing. It did a hell of a job, though. Kagami knew Kuroko hadn’t seen it before, since they didn’t do it at the Disneyland in Tokyo.

“Amazing,” Kuroko murmured. His voice was awed, distant. He seemed to be looking everywhere, at the lights and wreaths too. His eyes shone like stars. And just like that, Kagami was wishing again. He tried to put it out of his mind.

Kuroko gave him a smile, like he suddenly understood something.

“It’s a lot like our first Christmas together, isn’t it?” he said. “With all the decorations. Though we didn’t have snow.”

He wound his arm around Kagami’s, and Kagami’s stomach fluttered. He hadn’t really been thinking about that. But it was true. He still vividly remembered that date, when they went to Tokyo Disneyland as a couple to look at Christmas lights. God, he had been so nervous.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he mumbled. “It is.”

Kuroko looked up at him with laughing eyes. “Did you forget?”

“No! “ Kagami couldn’t help sounding kind of flustered. “I mean, not exactly. That’s just… It’s not why I decided to bring you here.”

His face felt warm. He wasn’t sure if he should actually explain this part or not.

Kuroko blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just, you were so bummed about missing the snow yesterday,” Kagami said. Kuroko’s expression flickered with understanding, but he hurried on. “And I thought… I mean, I know this isn’t as good. Not just because it’s fake. But because it’s not Japan, and it’s just the two of us out here by ourselves, and—”

He stopped himself. He hadn’t meant to say all that.

“Uh, anyway.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “This is as much snow as we get around here, so… I don’t know. I thought we could see it, at least.”

Kuroko peered up at him. His eyes were so soft, shimmering in the light, that they reminded Kagami of a melting candle.

“Thank you,” he said. He was frowning a little. “But, Kagami-kun… Do you think I don’t want to be here in California? With you?”

“No. I know you want that.” Kagami bit the inside of his cheek. “For now, anyway.”

Kuroko lowered his gaze. Feathered flakes dusted the ground between them.

“So that’s what’s troubling you.” He said this so quietly that it was more like Kagami was reading the movements of his lips.

A lump tangled in Kagami’s throat. Of course Kuroko already knew he was worrying. He always knew too much. Kagami still wasn’t sure if he should talk about his dumb worries or not. But it looked like the cat was already halfway out of the bag.

He needed to tell Kuroko the truth. Because if he didn’t, it would just be selfish.

“Look, it’s just…” He tried to think of the best way to say it. He started slow, as slow as he could. “I know you want to be with me. And you have no idea how glad I am you’re here. But you really miss Japan. You’ve been missing it for months, I can tell. I know it’s normal to be homesick and all, but…”

He took a breath, trying to keep cool. Then the words were spilling out, way too fast.

“I think it’s more than that,” he blurted. “Because if you’re here with me, well, all you’re getting is me. You know? Like I’m no help at schoolwork. And I don’t cook the same as your mom, and I’m not a good listener, and I have no freaking idea what colors go with your hair. Or whatever the hell Kise goes on about when he drags you on all those shopping trips.”

“What?” Now Kuroko looked bewildered. Which, Kagami realized as his words echoed in his head, made sense. “Why on earth would I want you to know about colors?”

“Look, never mind.” Kagami drew another shaky breath. “The point is, if you’re with me, you can’t be with everyone else back in Japan. And sure, maybe that seems worth it now. It’s just… Lots of people do stuff for love or romance or whatever. Then their feelings change, or other things matter more, and they regret it. Right?”

Kagami wanted to say more about that. Because he had experience with people in love making dumb choices and regretting it. But he didn’t need to go into his parents’ story right now. It wasn’t the point.

He also had a feeling from Kuroko’s mournful expression that his boyfriend already knew where he was coming from on that. And now Kagami felt bad, because he wasn’t trying to depress him or something.

“I mean, you’re only twenty,” he added, trying to be as gentle as he could. Which he sucked at, but he was _trying_ , damn it. “And I’m not saying you didn’t think about it, when you asked to live with me. I did too—or I tried, but I was too excited and I don’t have to deal with the downsides as much. I just get the feeling that in a few years, you might wish you had stayed with your friends and family. And I wouldn’t blame you. At all.”

His voice fell. He shut his mouth, and waited. Kuroko was staring at the ground again. He was silent, still. Like Kagami figured he would be.

Kagami just hoped all of that had made sense. Because it was a whole lot of words, and he still wasn’t sure if Kuroko would consider them seriously. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t. Because the thought that it would sink in, and Kuroko would change his mind, made Kagami’s heart feel like it was tearing itself to pieces.

It was better than Kuroko being miserable down the line, though. Or that’s what Kagami tried to tell himself. Not like his heart listened.

At last Kuroko raised his head. Kagami couldn’t read his expression at all.

“Well, you’re right about my family, and our friends,” he said slowly, and Kagami’s heart tore further. “I miss them terribly. And I do miss Japan sometimes. I won’t lie and say it isn’t difficult. In an ideal world, I wouldn’t have to make a choice like this. The Pacific Ocean would be nonexistent. Or we’d all have teleporters, maybe. And I could just step through and visit the others whenever I wanted.”

A smile ghosted across Kuroko's mouth. Kagami wasn’t sure if it was because he was trying to make a joke, or because the idea of instant teleportation sounded nice. All Kagami knew was that he wished it were real, for Kuroko’s sake. So bad it hurt.

“But I did have to choose,” Kuroko said. His voice was gentle, serious. “And I asked to move here with you, Kagami-kun, because you come first for me. I felt that way even before we graduated, if I’m being truthful. I was just afraid it was too soon.”

Kagami gave a start. Kuroko nodded, like he had expected his surprise. Which he should, Kagami thought, because what the hell. Kuroko had never said anything about that, back in high school. Not even when they were deciding on college.

“I know we’re young,” Kuroko added. “I worried about that too. I thought about staying in Japan for two more years. I could have waited until graduate school to transfer. And I would have gotten by, somehow.”

He took both of Kagami’s gloved hands in his.

“But I came out here because I don’t want to miss this time in your life,” he said. “I want to be here with you, and celebrate with you. I want to cheer at your first NBA game. I want to support you as much as I can.”

His words pierced straight through Kagami’s chest. Seriously, what did he ever do to deserve a boyfriend like this? Well, nothing. Because he didn’t deserve him.

“I’m going to be gone so much, though,” he managed to say.

Kuroko nodded, solemnly.

“I know,” he said. “I’ll still have to do without you sometimes. But if I want to keep being with you—and I do—then I’ll need to build a life for myself here eventually. Why not do it now, rather than later?”

He gave Kagami’s hands a light squeeze.

“You had to make the same choice I did,” he added. “You came here for your future. Even though I’m sure you miss Himuro-san, and all our friends from Seirin. Right?”

Kagami managed a nod. He didn’t think it was a fair comparison, but it was true. He still wasn’t convinced that Kuroko should be building a long-term future around him, though. Kuroko seemed to guess his train of thought. (Weird, but nothing new.)

“As for regretting my decision, you and I are stubborn, Kagami-kun,” he said. “We’re not the type of people to change our minds very easily. Or our hearts.”

He wound their fingers together, tightly. His eyes brightened, in that way that always made Kagami’s heart skip.

“I’m not about to abandon on my own personal miracle, just because it arrived a bit earlier than most,” he murmured.

He stepped closer, and rested his head against Kagami’s chest. Kagami bent his head, without thinking. Kuroko’s words glowed inside him. Especially the one he knew Kuroko never used lightly.

_“Miracle.”_

“If you ever change your mind about us, I promise to respect that,” Kuroko added, beside the front pocket of his coat. “And I know you would do the same for me. But I don’t believe I will. I came to that realization last year, with a little help.”

Kagami stared down at Kuroko. “Wait, what kind of help?”

“I’ll tell you someday,” Kuroko said, in a voice that might as well have been a laugh. “Right now I think it would just annoy you.”

“Hey, come on.” Kagami moved to pull away. “Just tell—”

Suddenly, Kuroko had Kagami by the collar, and he was doubled over in a kiss. Kuroko’s lips fluttered over his. Their noses brushed beside their cheeks, frosty from the weather. Yet even in the cold, heat pooled in Kagami’s chest, and spread down into his stomach, with every deft motion of Kuroko’s mouth. He really was too good at kissing, Kagami thought. Especially now, after the years of practice.

Kuroko pulled away, gradually. He was smiling again, a playful one. That sparkle of light in his eyes was so subtle, that it took Kagami years to learn to recognize it. He usually did now, though. (And it usually made him blush.)

“In any case, I like it here,” Kuroko said, to Kagami’s continued disbelief. “I like the weather, most of the time. I enjoy it when you take me to all the places you love. And I like that I can kiss you, and fewer people stare at us like we aren’t allowed.”

He nodded around them. Sure enough, nobody was glaring. A few kids were looking at them, wide-eyed, but that was pretty much it.

“It’s not like they stared that much in Japan either,” Kagami muttered.

Kuroko shook his head. “I may be somewhat difficult to notice under ordinary circumstances, Kagami-kun, but I’m not _invisible_. If you kiss someone in a public place in Tokyo, people tend to notice, no matter who it is. As you may remember, from a few occasions.”

He gave Kagami a significant look. Kagami’s face grew warmer at the memories.

“I guess,” he admitted. “Same goes for here, really, but… I get your point.”

And he did. Even at places like this, some people still gave them sideways glances when they were kissing, or walking hand in hand. (Assuming they noticed, because no matter what Kuroko said, they didn’t always see him.) But the looks were usually more on the curious side, like the kids. In a lot of ways, Kagami knew how to handle having a boyfriend in California, way better than he knew how to do it in Japan.

They were both silent for a moment, watching the last flurries of snow drift among the old-fashioned buildings. Christmas music was playing in the background. Somehow it didn’t feel out of season, even though Christmas was over. Maybe it was the weather, Kagami thought with a shiver. He noticed Kuroko was shivering too.

He unzipped his coat, and beckoned Kuroko with a nod. Kuroko chuckled. He slipped in between the flaps, and Kagami tucked the coat around him. Kuroko wound his arms all the way around Kagami’s waist, and pulled in as close as he could.

They were quiet, as they warmed up together. Kagami was thinking, about everything Kuroko said. He knew Kuroko meant it. And it wasn’t like he was stupid or naïve. He was way smarter than Kagami was, that was for sure.

Kagami just wasn’t sure he had as much faith in all of this as Kuroko did. Life, it turned out, was trickier than basketball.

After a few minutes, Kuroko tipped his head up. The look on his face was pensive. “Do you happen to remember what I wrote in that email once? How I signed it?”

Kagami had no clue why Kuroko was bringing this up. But he knew right away, which email he meant. There was no way he wouldn’t. The words flashed inside his mind. Especially the ones at the end.

_Sincerely,_

_A shadow who is lost without his light_

“Yeah, I remember,” he said, in a low voice.

Kuroko hesitated. He pressed his mouth into a thin line.

“I went a long time without writing that,” he said at last. “Months.”

Kagami gave a start. He hadn’t realized Kuroko wanted to write the message earlier.

“I didn’t want to sound weak or needy,” Kuroko added, in a strained voice. Kagami realized this was hard for him to admit. “But, Kagami-kun, I should tell you… I feel incomplete when I’m not with you. Like one half of a whole. Not because I can’t survive on my own. I certainly can. But because I’m so much happier with you.”

Every word he said sounded familiar. Kagami had felt exactly the same way. He recalled how Kuroko had been acting back then. All those strange texts from their friends. He already knew Kuroko was missing him. Maybe it was even more than he dared to imagine. More, because he was afraid to know how mutual it was.

“Without you, I just feel like less,” Kuroko admitted. “Of _myself_.”

His expression grew blank, a little distant.

“Because the stronger the light…” He chuckled, almost weakly. He looked back up at Kagami. “You remember, don’t you?”

Kagami remembered, all right. He could never forget.

“I decided I would rather be all of myself.” Kuroko sounded almost sheepish. “Whole. Here, with you. If that’s okay.”

Kagami wanted to shout, _Yes, god yes, of course it is, don’t you know I need that too?_ But it still seemed kind of selfish. Since he knew for a fact he needed Kuroko just as badly. Maybe more. Still, he nodded, without really thinking.

“But your friends are important too,” he couldn’t help adding. “And your family.”

“Of course,” Kuroko agreed. “They’ll always be a priority for me. I’ll visit them as often as I can. And I’ll talk to them all the time.”

Kagami furrowed his brows. He still couldn’t help wondering if that was enough. Finally he managed to say, “Okay.”

Kuroko’s frown was sympathetic. “You really are worried for me, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want you to settle.” Kagami couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

Kuroko reached up, and cupped Kagami’s cheek with his glove. The woolen fabric was cold. Kuroko tipped Kagami’s head downward, gently but firmly.

“There is no possible situation in which having you is settling,” he said, with palpable tension. He sounded almost fierce. “You are my light.”

Each of those words shuddered inside Kagami. They sank all the way down into his bones, like some kind of inescapable truth. He could never argue with Kuroko, not when he was like this. Kagami liked to think he was a strong person. But the truth was, he couldn’t compare to his partner. He swallowed.

“You’re mine too, you know.” His voice was hoarse. He thought of the bad dreams, of two years living in L.A. by himself. “Everything’s darker without you.”

Kuroko gaped at him. Like this confession was a surprise, even though it seemed so obvious to Kagami. Then Kuroko’s eyes sparked with a determined look. He pulled Kagami closer, rising on his toes, and placed his mouth beside his ear.

“I want to stay by your side,” he whispered, with so much tenderness that it stung Kagami’s throat. “For as long as you’ll let me, Kagami Taiga.”

Kagami’s breath caught. Kuroko pulled away. And for the first time, Kagami realized his wish from the beach just might come true. The one about how he wanted to be with Kuroko forever…

Or at the very least, for as long as they both should live.

It wasn’t Kuroko’s words that convinced him. (Though they might have been enough on their own.) Instead, it was the look in those steely blue eyes. Kagami knew that look, and he always would. It was the most stubborn look in the universe. The look that would never give up.

Kagami first witnessed that look over five years ago, when he told Kuroko to give up basketball, and Kuroko refused to agree. Then he saw it in dozens of games, ones with near-impossible odds. Games Kuroko said he wanted to win anyway. More often than not, he _had_ won. With a team strengthened by the sheer stubbornness of his faith.

Yeah, that look had made miracles happen. Unthinkable miracles. Suddenly, with the force of that look, Kagami’s wish no longer seemed impossible at all.

If there was one thing he would always believe in, it was Kuroko.

Right then and there, Kagami decided for the first time that he was going to ask Kuroko something. Something really important. Probably the most important question he’d ever ask in his life. He almost blurted it out, but he stopped himself just in time.

He would wait. For a year. Just one year, to find out where he ended up in the NBA, and if Kuroko was still okay after Kagami had been on the road a few times. Besides, he needed to think of a good time and place to ask.

And he would have to buy a ring.

But he sure as hell was going to do it.

For now, though, he just held Kuroko close, and murmured, “I want that too.”

Kuroko beamed up at him. Fake snow rested on his eyelashes. It was in his hair, too, but Kagami could hardly see the flakes among those white-blue strands. Kuroko was pretty much a snowflake himself, Kagami realized. He was small, and pale. And most definitely one-of-a-kind.

Kagami almost laughed aloud at the idea. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Kuroko, bent over, and caught him up in a kiss of his own.

Their lips met, in that familiar, perfect, brain-melting way. Kagami’s thoughts were coherent just long enough to realize the one thing that made Kuroko different from snow was his warmth. The soft warmth of his lips, and the sweet warmth of his breath, that curled beside their mouths like gentle steam.

Kagami let the kiss linger. He pressed harder, then lighter, and let Kuroko respond. Soon they were moving as one, in an unspoken rhythm. Lips caught gingerly between teeth, and tongues skimmed together. A few hushed murmurs of pleasure escaped between them, before they pulled apart again.

Kagami had no clue if anyone else was watching, because he didn’t care. All he could see was the guy in his arms. The one he wanted to call his partner, always.

“I love you,” he said.

He resisted the urge to add in a playful voice, _“You special little snowflake.”_ That was definitely a mood killer. He would use it in one of their future teasing matches, though.

“I love you too,” Kuroko said warmly. He followed this up with an odd look. “And I’m not sure what you’re thinking about, but I’m fairly certain I don’t like it.”

Kagami grinned down at him. “I’ll tell you later.” He paused, and snorted out a laugh. “Also, what, you have a psychic link to my brain now?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Kuroko’s tone was thoughtful. “Not yet, at least. Perhaps someday.”

Kagami’s smile softened. He felt a familiar pang in his chest. Except this one was as warm as it was aching. Warm, and way less afraid.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Someday.”

He brushed a few soapy flakes out of Kuroko’s hair.

“And don’t forget,” he added. “Someday I’m gonna sense you all the time, too.”

Kuroko shook his head, but his eyes twinkled. “Impossible.”

Kagami laughed. The snow had stopped falling, and the park was beginning to empty. Kagami took Kuroko by the hand, and they walked down Main Street. The Christmas tree towered at the end of the lane, gleaming with color. It would be taken down the next day, now that the holiday season was over.

That was okay, though. Kagami had a feeling they would see it again.

Year after year.


End file.
